The Fear of Silence
How Can We Move From Existential Angst to Contemplative Awe?
We are afraid
Of pain but more afraid of silence; for no nightmare
Of hostile objects could be as terrible as this Void.
This is the Abomination. This is the wrath of God. — W. H. Auden
W.H. Auden (1907-1973) is known primarily as a major 20th century poet (famous for “The Age of Anxiety” among other works), but he has interesting connections to the world of mysticism: in 1964 he wrote the introduction to Anne Fremantle’s anthology of protestant mystics, and his Christmas oratorio For the Time Being, while never fully set to music (he wrote it for Benjamin Britten) could arguably be seen as a literary landmark of 20th century spirituality, if not mysticism: like many great mystics, Auden interprets Biblical events in the light of his own time, which means For the Time Being has a sense of — gasp! — existentialism about it.
And I can’t imagine a more existentialist — but also more mystical — statement than “We are more afraid of silence” than even of pain. Speaking collectively, I believe those words are even more true today than when they were first published in 1944. When I worked at the Trappist monastery in Georgia, I remember a monk commenting sadly on people coming to the monastery to make a retreat, but then leaving early because they couldn’t stand the silence. Now, to be fair, others come to silence with a sense of discovery and homecoming — that was certainly my experience when I first encountered silence as a spiritual practice, back in the early 1980s. But I’ve come to see my happy relationship with silence as a gift, and the “fear of silence” as unfortunately more characteristic of our society in general.
From rock concerts to sporting events to spring break in Florida or Mardi Gras, we human beings seem to be much better at making noise than at keeping still. As a contemplative, I sometimes am tempted to get all judgy about this, as if loud people are somehow morally defective (the fact that I’m an introvert doesn’t help). But Auden reminds me, reminds us, that it is anxiety, rather than debauchery, that drives our ever-increasing decibel levels. And that is a helpful, if sobering, point to keep in mind.
Silence can seem to be an abyss, and that abyss feels like “the wrath of God” — our heavenly creator giving us “the silent treatment” because of his holy displeasure. But when we feel this, we are projecting. God is not wrathful, any more than God is absent. Even in the face of great oppression and injustice, God brings love and compassion — the only power strong enough to subvert the human capacity to inflict suffering on each other.
How do we reframe our experience of silence, from anxiety to awe? The answer, I believe, must be grounded in grace. Silence, like all mystical experience, is never ours to control. But it is ours to experience, to receive, to allow to transform us. This Advent season, may we pray for the grace to find joy, not fear, in the holy void.
Quotation source: W. H. Auden, For the Time Being: A Christmas Oratorio (Princeton University Press, 2013), p. 7.